Next Target
After shaking off Midnight, I released my transformation and put my clothes back on. Blood kept oozing from the gash on my stomach, staining my shirt and waist red. It hurt like hell.
Hwang Yerang reverted to her normal form once she dropped her transformation too. Hers felt like it just draped armor over her clothes, so she didn't have to change like I did—looked awfully convenient. I was genuinely jealous.
She coaxed me into heading back to the hideout for treatment, and I followed her without protest, trudging toward the Jamryong Hideout.
"How'd you know I was in a fight?"
"Chaerim told me. The monster in the alley got killed by a hero right after running into you. Figured you were tangling with one, so I hustled over."
Makes sense. Seo Chaerim must've sensed something was off when her pet monster suddenly croaked and tipped off Hwang Yerang.
"But what's the deal with that Midnight hero from earlier? You two seemed pretty chummy."
"Back when I was still in the Association, he was like a senior—or colleague?—we hung out with a lot."
Hwang Yerang's terrorism bust and wanted status went down about six years ago, right? Surprising how many heroes she was tight with might still be kicking around in the Association.
"I was pretty young for a hero back then, y'know? Everyone doted on me, but Midnight bro especially. Said I reminded him of his dead little sister."
"Sounds like a good guy."
"He is. Bit of a massive coward, though."
A coward, huh. Come to think of it, she'd muttered something weird when we split from Midnight.
"What was that you said earlier? Something about him only wandering around with clones?"
"Oh, that? It's a secret not even many in the Association know, but for all his tough-guy vibe, Midnight bro's scared of his own shadow. So whenever he's out on ops, he always uses clones."
"What? You mean..."
"Yeah. That wasn't his real body back there."
Damn it. I'd been played like a fiddle by Midnight. Sneaky as hell, but smart as whips. If his real self chills safely somewhere spectating while his clones do the dirty work, he'd never lose.
Really drove home how broken clone powers were. No wonder senior heroes were on another level.
"You seemed tight, like old comrades. He doesn't know why you left the Association?"
"Nah. Only the top brass back then knew. How're you gonna admit they ran human experiments on trainees? Heroes would've rioted first."
"Why not spill it? Doesn't that piss you off?"
"The higher-ups are trash, sure, but the Association has to exist. Without it, who's gonna handle villains and monsters? It's all my noble sacrifice for humanity."
She said it light and joking, but I couldn't imagine the hell she went through to joke about it like that.
Back when I'd first met Hwang Yerang and dug into her online, the endless hate piled on her was unreal. She was just sixteen then—not the kind of venom a kid that age should face. The nation's darling little girl, suddenly drowning in that shit. What must that have felt like?
And yet here she was, living bright and bold. Damn impressive. Respect. Sometimes she came off like some enlightened old monk.
Once we made it safely to the hideout, she disinfected my wound and bandaged it up. Barely qualified as "treatment," but this kind of injury would heal by morning anyway.
Seo Chaerim spotted us arriving and came out chattering nagging nonsense, but knowing she was worried made it not grate so much. Stubborn girl, never straight with her feelings.
"Man, talk about a pickle, huh?"
"…"
Juhyeonseong, boss of the radical faction Daidalos that orchestrated the terror attacks, ignored the man's words with a shit-eating grin. Things were a genuine mess, just like the guy said—anything he spat out would just make him look worse. The dude was just yapping to get under his skin. Ignore and done.
"Who'da thunk the Association would deploy a White Knight. How many grunts you got left? Or nah, should be worrying about your own neck first?"
The Villain Alliance was a mashup of villain groups, so even allies weren't always friendly. Radicals like them clashed plenty among themselves.
His outfit used to pack real punch in the Alliance, but it'd been declining, fading into irrelevance. That's why he'd rolled the dice on terror. Moderates opposed it, but other radical crews didn't outright block it. They didn't jump in full throttle either, though.
Now Juhyeonseong seethed at those other radicals' plays. They'd ride the wave if it succeeded, or cheer his downfall if it tanked—win-win for them.
But he hadn't started a hopeless war. The terror would tank the Association's cred; bigger wins would drag in more radicals. Snowball the chaos, and even moderates would have to join or get left behind.
The wild cards he hadn't seen coming: the werewolf and a White Knight.
Bomberman got offed by the werewolf in their initial hero ambush. Juhyeonseong hadn't sweat it much then—strong beast, sure, but not a real threat to his crew.
Wrong. Not just Nam Hyunsu, but his number two, Stormbringer, bit it too. Morale cratered; they became Alliance laughingstocks.
Still manageable. Or so he'd thought.
Then the Association called in a White Knight. Way off his script. He'd known a clash was inevitable eventually, but not this soon. Wait for all moderates to pile in, then maybe. Solo? No shot against a White Knight.
White Knights were off on expeditions to pollution zones lately, probing rising monster spawns. That's why he'd timed the terror now. But the Association yanked them back instead of pushing the expedition—probably spooked by mutant stirrings, but he hadn't banked on that.
Bottom line: his rush to terror was the fuckup. Organization was shredded by the White Knight already. Stick around, and it'd be Association purge or radical rivals ripping him apart. No third option.
Time to go all-in, no holds barred.
Ignoring the yapping bastard, Juhyeonseong headed back to the hideout where his surviving crew huddled. Grunts were mostly wiped, but his execs held.
After the radical bosses' summit, he sat stone-silent. No one dared speak first. Heavy quiet hung until he broke it.
"…Situation's shit. Treat the next one like it's our last."
"Boss, why not go for the Betrayer?"
"Snag her, and we flip this mess, right?"
The Betrayer. Baek Seung-ah. Yeah, if he could flip her, no more headaches. She'd drag in radicals and moderates.
But that warning from the self-styled "Jamryong" crew complicated it. First he'd heard of them. But their roster? Big names he knew: S-rank villains Little Devil and Headhunter rivaling White Knights, plus the Betrayer. Headhunter especially—a terror legend to heroes and villains alike.
No point chasing the Betrayer if fighting Headhunter wiped them out. Hell, he didn't even know where she was. Post-hospital terror suggested Stormbringer had touched base, but he was dead now.
"No Betrayer."
"Next target's who, then?"
"Not a place. A person."
"Who?"
"Mid hero Spica."
The crew blinked at targeting a mid-rank out of nowhere. Juhyeonseong, expecting it, laid it out.
"Everyone knows Spica stopped the hospital terror. Hottest hero right now. That's why we hit her. Max impact, minimal hassle. Sneak assassinate, stick her head on a pike in a busy street—picture perfect, yeah?"
But that was just the opener. Pure theater to grab eyes. No time left for subtlety anyway. Means and methods? Out the window. Even if it meant stabbing the Alliance in the back.